


fidelity

by mardia



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-25
Updated: 2010-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-14 02:29:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/144344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mardia/pseuds/mardia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief snapshot of life in the Bartowski household, before it all fell apart. (Pre-canon, Mary POV.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	fidelity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tvconnoisseur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tvconnoisseur/gifts).



Chuck's about five or six when Mary starts to notice the sheer amount of information he keeps stored up in his head. It's not that he has a photographic memory--Mary and Stephen have quietly had both Chuck and Ellie tested, and while her children are brilliant (geniuses in fact, and that's not an exaggeration) neither of them have photographic memories.

They're brilliant, so smart, but Chuck...he remembers everything he's learned, everything that he's been taught. A little prompting, and that knowledge just...spills forth, accompanied with a bright, gap-toothed grin.

If they were anything close to a normal family, this wouldn't be a problem at all. It'd just be another thing to be thankful for, like good health, security, happiness.

But they aren't normal, and Mary understands the nature of Stephen's research and work for the Agency--understands it better than even he gives her credit for.

One Thanksgiving, after they've eaten all the food--she's taken to putting marshmellows in the sweet potatoes, at the kids' request--they're all sitting on the couch, watching A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving.

Ellie's pressed in close against Mary's side, and Chuck's resting his head in her lap. Stephen smiles at her, and Mary smiles back, a hand in her son's hair, idly stroking the thick curls.

Later, she'll be angry with herself for thinking it, but right then, Mary's stroking her index finger with her thumb, remembering the calluses on her hand that she used to have, from training, from the near-constant use of her gun.

It wouldn't take too long for those calluses to reform. She needs to remember that. Stephen too.

But the next time she picks up a gun, Mary decides, it won't be for the flag, for a distant ideal. It'll be for two small little beings that matter far much more to her than her country ever could.


End file.
